


When I Belonged to You

by violetnyte



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drabble, M/M, Uncontrollable Feels, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 21:04:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetnyte/pseuds/violetnyte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU, Aleks reflecting on his relationship with Sacha, based on the prompt of "Anything Cain/Deimos that is sad"</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I Belonged to You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eliphant (elisetales)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=eliphant+%28elisetales%29).



I am sixteen when I kiss Sacha for the first time. He is fifteen and tall, slender, fast growing like a new tree whereas I am still small, will never come further than his shoulder, will never stand taller than him, always the weedy grass in his shadow. His lips are wet and taste like nickels, slippery with blood from the fight.

There is fleeting resistance because I have startled him, because I don’t think he knows how deep my loyal runs, how long my devotion will last. My eyes are open to see his close, to see the snarling curve of his mouth melt into motion. He claims me with lips that taste like nickels and feel like possession, because I am his now and forever.

He lays me into the backseat of my father’s car with teenage urgency, wild and young with what I offer, with what I promise with mouth and hot hands. We exchange no words or vows, there is no need for explanation, just the grind of him against me, sweated flesh against the cheap upholstery. I know I am his first because I know everything about him, because I want to be everything that is his even though I am not, I am nothing, I am just this moment in the back of my father’s car.

The windows are open so that the stifling summer breeze can bring to us the call of cicadas and the fragrance of the grass and sky, the ticklish odor of engine oil and exhaust that fades into nothing as the engine cools. We are heat and motion, frenetic, closing in on what I think will be something but is not. I want it anyway, want to hear the gasping snarl of his breath and feel the clench of his teeth into a bruise against my throat that will be slow to fade unlike the mark he’s made upon my heart that will last forever.

Afterward I drive him home without saying a word, with this silence between us that for once is uncomfortable because he won’t fill it with sneers or sarcasm. He slams the car door with busted knuckles and goes inside his house with a black eye and split lip that he earned before leaving in the first place. It will be two years still until he leaves for good, but for now there is just his dark house and mine just around the corner where my father’s car goes back into the garage as if nothing happened.

Our first time is not the last, but it is the one I always remember. Not the time in my bedroom, drunk from sharing a stolen bottle, the time he’s too rough and I bleed into the sheets when he’s sleep, staining memory into the blue cotton. Not the first time in my own car, when I am eighteen and proud of the rust stained hood and squeaky transmission, when he is distant and trying to fade, when I kiss his bruises and let him bruise me, when I want to tell him everything but say nothing.

It’s not long after that when he leaves and then meets a man with pretty blond hair and gentle smile, someone who is soft-spoken but sharp-tongued, pliable enough to appease Sacha’s fickle whims and stable enough to keep him from trouble. I am trouble, I am something from his troubled past, I am something he’s trying to leave behind. We see little of each other, he doesn’t come back so I have to go forward, cast my hopes until they sink.

He is gone to me, no longer mine even though he was never mine to have, never something I could hold, as intangible as the smoke from his cigarettes, as unknowable and eternal as the moon during all the nights we shared, waxing and waning through the tapestry of my life. He left without a word, disappeared into the night like water down the drain, the slow swirling descent something I denied, something I wanted to deny. I could no sooner catch him than catch the stars.

This is the last, and it is when I am twenty-three and he is twenty-two and scared, pacing around a cheap motel room with busted knuckles once again. He’s hit someone he shouldn’t have, he’s afraid to turn into a man he hates, he’s been kicked out of his house or ran away from it – I’m not sure, but I’m there all the same because he called me, because he asked something of me.

I taste the smoke and burn of him for the last time, the heat of his lips and the urgency just like that first time, like we are just two skinny teenagers fumbling into adulthood with busted knuckles and shivering breaths. Afterward I tell him that I love him, but he already knew and has forever even though I never said it, even though this is the first I’ve ever spoken to him, the first I’ve spoken since the accident when I was seven. He’s always known and tells me this, says it so I know it’s the last, so I know when he leaves it will be forever.

I will see him again but it will never be the same. I will forever live in the time between the back of my father’s car and a cheap motel room, the times when I was something even though it was nothing. 


End file.
